


piecemeal

by loverletter



Category: Bleach
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, only a mention of ichiruki but one feels compelled to tag them regardless, writing practice. mostly.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverletter/pseuds/loverletter
Summary: There was nobody watching. They could spend the whole day in their pyjamas. They could have dessert for lunch if they wanted.
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Ishida Uryuu, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	piecemeal

**Author's Note:**

> four drabbles written par the prompts generated here - https://atsuzaki-playground.neocities.org/ 
> 
> perhaps the beginning of a series. who knows.

  1. _prompt – have you forgotten anything?_



Orihime’d always considered herself a morning bird—the summer semester would change that.

One foot in a sock, hopping across the bathroom in a stuck-zipper skirt, groggy-eyedly burning her hair on a curler; no complaints, though. Astrophysics was the sort of depressingly niche subject that left doctorates flocking to lab assistant posts. Professor Matsubara, for all his curmudgeoning a la _Inoue-kun, I’m pushing up your deadline,_ and _Inoue-kun_ , _write this 30-page report all over again,_ and _Inoue-kun, fetch my mail on the way,_ was a godsend.

But no complaints didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate Uryuu being around.

“Good morning. It’s onigiri for lunch again.” He was cutting up vegetables—shiitake mushrooms and long green beans. “Sorry, it’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”

“Yum!” She muffled through a mouthful of toothpaste. Maybe he had a point about her using more than she actually needed—but then he got her the one with sparkles anyway, so that was more mixed signals than anything, right? “I’ll make coffee.”

“Nope.” He pointed to the kettle, whistling away next to the outlet. “You’re going to be late.”

“Oh, geez, gosh—” She hated these boots so much. “ _Damn._ Okay, I’ve gotta _actually_ run.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Righto. Lunch.” Orihime grabbed the box from the counter—the familiar weight nestled inside. “Thank you _so_ much, I promise it’s just these few weeks—”

“You’re welcome. Something else, though.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” That Uryuu still looked nice in her Don Kanonji apron, holding up a ladle, should be _infuriating_. Three steps and she was on the other side of her matchbox kitchen. He smelled of fresh laundry. “ _Mwah_. I’ll call at break.”

The flush on his smooth face seemed to rise from the cheek where her lipstick had left a stain. “Orihime” he held up her car keys. “I meant _these.”_

* * *

  1. _prompt – snoring._



  
“Inoue is...” Kurosaki scratched his head. “How do I say this?”

“ _Don’t._ Idiot.” Kuchiki-san hissed from inside his sleeping bag— something about hers having holes in the bottom and letting in the cold. A fine excuse for someone who was used to _literal_ _absolute zero_. “You’re so uncouth.”

“Rukia. Nobody’s gonna get any goddamn _sleep_.”

There was no point in rolling his eyes if Kurosaki couldn’t see them—but wonder of wonders, all that Shakespeare they were doing for first year Lit. was turning him into an even _bigger_ drama queen than he already was. Sure, Orihime— _Inoue-san,_ snored a bit when it was cold out, but it wasn’t anything worth throwing this sort of fit over, you grown ass—

“Ishida.” Kurosaki deadpanned. “How the hell are you dozing off. She’s _next_ to you.”

“Earplugs.”

Kurosaki peeked inside his sleeping bag. “Are you hearing this? _That’s_ not rude?”

Harmless white lie, he decided. If anything, he might break those earplugs out after all, if they really were planning to go the whole shameless mile out in the open. Warn them about the hazards? No way. The Hippocratic oath _probably_ didn’t kick in ‘til graduation.

And he wasn’t about to tell them why he was so used to Inoue-san’s nighttime sniffles, either.

* * *

  1. _prompt – copper_



Time had been melting down the drain that week—low sky, even lower electricity output. Orihime’s apartment complex, from top to bottom, shorted out around midday. That meant popsicles on the thin balcony. Fingers pink with cherry syrup. Her sticky mouth on the crook of his neck.

They weren’t the kind to even hold hands in public, but it was the long weekend of the flooded Karakura riverbank. Impromptu holidays were fun like that; people filtered inside on the Friday and hadn’t come out since. He’d protested the first time she’d been so— _wonderfully_ bold, but the heavy rain was curtaining down, and they were the only people in the world, Orihime said. There was nobody watching. They could spend the whole day in their pyjamas. They could have dessert for lunch if they wanted.

“That means I get to be a _menace_.” She closed her eyes against his shoulder. “I can get your nice, ironed shirt all sugary and you can’t tell me anything.”

The cool weight of her hair brushed his arm when she leant in again; copper in the dim grey light of the overcast world, like coins rippling up the still water of a wishing-well.

* * *

  1. _prompt – paracetamol_



He was watery eyed with headache when she’d left him on the sofa. “Don’t worry,” he’d said, blinking slowly, “it’ll pass by morning.”

Uryuu, as always, the unconvincing liar; but she wasn’t about to point that out. Buying into each other’s good-intentioned bluffing, Orihime’d realized, was half the work in a relationship. “If you say so.” She’d smoothed the hair out of his face. “Try and fall asleep, okay?”

She was the one who’d had the last of the panadol—having healing powers so conveniently on hand meant stocking up on first aid supplies was never quite priority uno, medical student in her bed or not. Bandages and gauzes were redundant—but cramps and seasonal migraines had her stumped. Another point for pharmacology.

She looked at the clock. 5 minutes to Ten.

“Are you going somewhere, Hime?”

“Mm.” She took out her runners from the little cupboard by the door. Laced up already— thank god for the Orihime of last Sunday, who’d had the then-terrible idea of going jogging. “Just a little walk.”

And then she was off.

-  
  


When she made it back to the building her ponytail was loosening—the damp roots weighing it down, even in the cold night air. Orihime thought of running track in high school with Ryo, how her lungs were used to working overtime back then— did everyone feel so _old_ at twenty-three? Her runners were squeaking from the sudden use, her face was burning up, and Uryuu was pacing in front of the building, looking even paler than usual.

“Hey, you.” She waved. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”

The relief on his face seemed to unknit his features into a smile for a moment, and then Uryuu shook his head. “I—you were out so late. I thought about going to look for you. I thought about calling Arisawa, to see if you’d gone to hers, I—what’s that?”

“Your panadol.” Orihime blinked. “Sorry, I had to run to the convenience store a few blocks away.”

“ _Orihime._ ” He reached for her hand— _gross_ , she was all clammy and hot and yuck— “you’re _so much._ You didn’t need to, it’d have passed.”

“I did need to.” She held up the packet triumphantly. “I love you.” It hurt to grin so wide. “This is what I’m here for.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading x


End file.
